True to her time, theMaranoareached Moreton Bay, and entered for the mouth of the Brisbane river. Here the scenery was of an uncommon and striking description, but as they neared the town the river dwindled to a mere mud-hole, similar to that at Launceston. After some delay she was made fast alongside theBuninyong, which had maintained, during its voyage, the two hours' start it had had. Hilda had visited Brisbane before, and knew her way about, so the girls had perfected all their plans during the voyage, and on landing, immediately crossed over to the Grand Hotel, and engaged a room.
"We cannot say how long we shall stay, but should we go, our luggage can remain here until we call or send for it," said Hil to the maidwho showed them their room, which they entered and locked the door.
"Now then, May, we'll try on our new rig-out."
"Shall we dress now?"
"Rather—you try on that," answered Hil, as she drew from her portmanteau a man's suit of tweed.
Amid a good deal of laughter, they dressed themselves in their new garb. Hil had neglected nothing, and had even provided two pairs of specially-made corsets which enabled the waist to appear even with the hips, instead of tapering. Loose flannel shirts, with collars attached, obviated all differences of appearance about the bust. Padded boots, two sizes too large for them, met the difficulty of small feet.
"Now for the finishing touch," said Hil, as she fixed a small downy moustache on May's upper lip and handed her a pair of eye-glasses. She wore herself a similar appendage, somewhat heavier, and carefully darkened her chin. The result was most satisfactory. Then producing two long macintoshes, which completely enveloped their figures, and fixing veils round the tweed caps they wore, they repacked their portmanteaus, watched a favourable opportunity, andslipped out of the hotel and proceeded to a quiet bye-street near the wharf. Here their macintoshes and veils disappeared into the river, and two spick and span young gentlemen emerged into the main thoroughfare again. The feeling was peculiar at first, but as no one appeared to take particular notice of them, they soon felt complete confidence in their disguise.
"Let's get a smoke, Hil," said May, stopping at a tobacconist's, "it will heighten the illusion." And quite in the regulation manner they strolled along, puffing cigarettes.
Their confidence became so great that they returned to the hotel and enquired if two ladies had arrived. The porter answered in the affirmative, but said they were out at that moment. They continued their way, and entered the saloon of the "Royal."
"What are you drinking?" asked Hil.
"Brandy and soda, please," said May, as she squeezed the barmaid's hand on the sly.
"Let's sit down," said Hil, "and fix on our names. Mine is Percy."
"And mine is Jack," promptly answered her companion.
They sat at the table smoking and sipping thedrinks before them, occasionally ogling the barmaid, when both were rather startled at the entrance of Hal and Reg. A covert kick from Hil made both extremely cautious.
"What will you try, Hal?" said Reg, with a casual glance round the room and a critical one at the ladies behind the bar.
"Ale, thanks. I wonder if there is an English boat in."
"That's meant for us: new chums," whispered Hil to May, and picking up theEvening Observer, she glanced over the contents.
"They seem to be pretty friendly," said May, pointing to the boys, who were monopolising the barmaid's time and attention.
"What'll you have, Jack," said Hil, aloud. "I say, miss, when you are at leisure—"
"I beg your pardon, sir," answered the barmaid, coming forward.
"Same again, miss, please."
"Very little brandy," put in May, for she noticed the spittoon by her side was nearly full and would not carry much more.
Reg picked up the paper which Hil had laid down, and looking down the columns gave a start at something that met his eye. CallingHal aside, he shewed it him. Hal merely nodded his head and, shortly after, they left. As soon as they had gone, Hil took up the paper again, and looking at the column Reg had pointed to, turned to May, and said:
"I was wondering what had startled those two and I believe it must be this."
May looked at the column she indicated and read:
"W—k, come to-morrow. All safe, S—l."
"W—k, come to-morrow. All safe, S—l."
"Nothing in that, Percy," answered May. "That girl's name is Sal, she's in it," she added, in a lower voice.
"They look like detectives, those two," said Hil sharply, out loud, turning round to watch the effect of her announcement.
The lady, who wore her name conspicuously engraved upon her ring, coloured and seemed disconcerted, and shortly after quitted the saloon.
"Come for a stroll as far as the Post Office," said Hil, as she saw Sal return with a letter in her hand.
"Are you gentlemen going to the Post Office?" she asked, sweetly.
"Yes, we're going to try our luck again."
"Would you mind taking this letter, and handing it in to the Telegraph Department. Here is a shilling to pay for it."
"I'll take the letter, my dear, with pleasure, but not the shilling," said Hil, patting the girl affectionately on the cheek.
"You'll see it's sent off at once, for it concerns a young lady whose mother is ill."
"I'll go as fast as I can carry it. Come on, Jack," answered Hil, leaving the saloon hurriedly, followed by May.
Outside, she turned to her companion, and asked:
"Do you know what I have got here?"
"Wyck's address."
"I think so, we'll see," and she tore the letter open hurriedly, as if the action hardly commended itself to her. Taking out the enclosure, she read:
"V. Wyckliffe, Royal Hotel, Toowoomba. Two men enquiring for you. Go to back country.—Sal."
"V. Wyckliffe, Royal Hotel, Toowoomba. Two men enquiring for you. Go to back country.—Sal."
"Where's Toowoomba, Hil?"
"It's on the overland road to Sydney, about five hours' journey. Have you a guide?"
"Yes, here we are. Express leaves at 6.30."
"Good! Come, we will have to change our rig. He'll strike off for the back country, the wire shews that. We shall want moleskin trousers and rougher clothes."
"Why? Won't these do?" asked May, not liking the idea.
"Not for the bush, May. Of course, we will go in these and take the others with us in case of emergency. Come on, time is precious," and she led the way to an outfitter's.
The boys left the hotel for the purpose of consulting freely together outside. As they paced the street, Reg said:
"That certainly seems strange. W—k may stand for Wyck, and S—l for Sal, for that is the barmaid's name. If it is so, he is still in Brisbane."
"Yes, I suppose so," answered Hal, thoughtfully.
"Would it not be as well to question that girl about it?"
"Why, of course, of course. What are we thinking of?" and Hal turned back and once more entered the hotel.
"Do you know where Wyck is now, miss?" he asked in a familiar manner.
"No, I don't," answered she in a flurried way, blushing to the roots of her hair.
"Yes you do, miss," said Reg, laughing. "He is a friend of ours and we want to see him badly."
"I don't know who you mean," she answered, becoming very red and angry. And the boys seeing there was no chance of finding out anything went out again.
As they passed the Post Office they called in on the chance of finding something, and were gratified at having a telegram handed to them, which read as follows:
"Morris and Winter, Brisbane. Wyck at Toowoomba. Saw wire Dick. Says going bush. Terence O'Flynn."
"Morris and Winter, Brisbane. Wyck at Toowoomba. Saw wire Dick. Says going bush. Terence O'Flynn."
"What's the guide say, Reg?"
"Express 6.30. It's now 4.30."
"What's he making for the bush for? He thinks he will escape us that way. If he does he's mistaken, for he's tumbling right into my arms," remarked Hal with a grim smile.
"I must say he is a bit smarter than I gave him credit for," said Reg.
"This is not a bad place, Reg, is it?"
"No. It's a bit warm. What are the people like—same as down South?"
"No, my boy. They are like the climate—warm—and they make it so if anything displeases them. They are the most independent and democratic lot in the colonies and, when the great smash comes, I shall be much mistaken if the voice of Queensland is not the first to cry 'Australia for the Australians.' But now to business. If we are going in for bush work we must have a bush outfit, so come on," and they walked towards the same outfitter's at which ten minutes previously the girls had rigged themselves out.
They were hardly out of sight of the Post Office when a hansom-cab drew up at the door, and a young man, looking furtively round, hastily alit and hurried into the office to enquire for letters. One was handed to him with the letters O.H.M.S. upon it, which he opened, signed the certificate enclosed and received from the savings-bank clerk a sum of money in gold. Pocketing the money, he hurried into his cab and drove away. The man was Villiers Wyckliffe, and there was anything but a pleasantlook on his face, for at heart he was an arrant coward. "Confound those fellows," he muttered to himself, "they may get here at any time. I had to come back here for money, but I'll go back to Toowoomba again, as it is a handy place to make for the open country at a moment's notice. Who in the deuce would have thought that a fellow would make so much fuss over a girl as that fellow Morris is doing. He and his friend mean mischief, for Dick told me of their carryings-on at Melbourne. If they track me I'll shoot them down like the dogs they are. If I could only get away I'd go back to England, for people are not so particular there. Damn Australia, I say! I wish I had never seen it." His face had grown black with anger, and falling back, he fell to commiserating his lot. "There are so many pretty girls here," he murmured. "And these confounded fellows are spoiling all my fun." Here any further reflections were disturbed by his arrival at the "George."
"Call for me in time to catch the 6.30 express," he shouted to the cabby, as he hurried inside.
"Let's come in here for a drink," said Hal,leading the way into the saloon of the "George," some ten minutes later.
Calling for drinks, they were surprised to see the two new chums that they had noticed before, sitting there.
"We meet again," whispered Hil to May.
"Well, here's luck, old chap," said Hal to Reg. "I wonder how old Goody and his daughter are getting on."
A kick passed between the new chums, who sat as if they noticed nothing.
"Yes, I wonder. She and her cousin are going on the detective business as well, eh? That's a good joke; but she's a jolly girl," answered Reg.
"I'd like to meet that cousin of hers," replied Hal. "From all accounts, she is a bit of a star."
"I think we ought to wire them that we have left Sydney. They'll be wondering what has come to us."
"Yes, I should like to let them know. To tell the truth, I thought they wanted to join us, or something of that kind, and, much as I like women, I could not stand that," said Hal, smiling.
"It's time to go, old chap. Ta-ta, miss," and they left to get ready for their journey.
As soon as they were gone, the two new chums looked at each other and burst out laughing.
"So, you're a jolly girl, May!"
"And you're a bit of a star."
"Come, let's get ahead of them at any rate. We'll see if girls are so much in the way, Mr. Hal. I consider it a gross piece of impertinence," said Hil, leading the way with an air of injured dignity.
"A nobbler of brandy please, miss, and let me have a flask too," said Wyck, hurriedly entering the saloon, for his cab was waiting to take him to the station.
The 6.30 express started for Toowoomba, taking five people, divided into three parties, each party quite unaware of the presence of the others. A lady had shadowed the boys to the station, and seeing them enter the train, left hastily for the Post Office, whence she despatched the following telegram:
Wyckliffe, Toowoomba. They left by to-night's express for Toowoomba. Danger. Sal.
Wyckliffe, Toowoomba. They left by to-night's express for Toowoomba. Danger. Sal.
Toowoomba being the junction of the Western Line and the chief town on the Darling Downs, the station was a larger one than ordinary. As the express steamed in all was life and bustle, for the down-train had arrived at the same time on the opposite side. Wyck having only a rug to look after, and knowing the run of the place, jumped out directly the train stopped and, calling a cab, drove to the Royal Hotel. Arriving there, he looked at the rack, and saw two telegrams addressed to himself, which he opened eagerly.
"By Jove, they're here!" he said to himself, and to the barman he cried, "Brandy!"
"You'll take the same room, sir," said the barman, handing him the drink, and wondering at his hurried manner.
"Say, George, if anyone calls for me I am not in," said he, laying half-a-crown in close proximity to George's hand.
"I'm fly, governor," said that worthy, pocketing the half-crown.
Wyck hurried upstairs to his room. Locking the door he sat down on the bed to think matters over. His limbs were trembling with nervous apprehension. Every step that passed his door made him start, and several times he had recourse to his flask to calm himself. The liquor had the desired effect, and lighting a cigar, he smoked on in silence. The smoke grew less, the cigar went out, but still he was gazing into space. A step passing his door woke him from his reverie. He took another long pull at his brandy-flask and shaking himself together walked to the looking-glass, and addressed his own image thus:
"Now, Wyck, my boy, you'll have to get out of this, and there is only one way of doing it, and that is to disguise yourself. Your moustache must come off first," and he gave that handsome appendage an affectionate farewell twist. "We must part, so here goes," and opening his dressing-case he set to work,and five minutes later was a clean-shaven man. Then he began to make elaborate preparations for his character in the bush by ripping his trousers and blackening them here and there. After a considerable amount of destruction had been done he considered his disguise satisfactory, and prepared for bed. To guard against over-sleeping himself he tied a string to the boots outside his door, and fixed the other end round his wrist. Then, taking a final sip from his flask, he jumped into bed and was soon fast asleep. He seemed scarcely to have dropped off before he was dreaming that Morris had him by the wrist and was sitting on his chest.
"Mercy!" he gurgled, at the same time rising in bed and wrenching his arm free, a process which brought forth the expression of a loud oath from outside the door.
"What's your game?" called out the owner of the voice, and Wyck woke fully and remembered. Springing out of bed he called the boots into his room.
"What's your game, young fellow?" repeated that worthy.
"I wanted you to wake me. Come, have a nip."
"Don't mind if I do, boss."
"What's your name?"
"Bill Adams. Here's luck, boss."
"Say, Bill, can you hold your tongue?"
"All depends."
"Here's a sovereign," said Wyck, handing him one.
"I can hold it as tight as wax, boss."
"Then listen. I got into a bit of a mess over a girl, and there are some chaps after me. They came by the express last night, and if I'm here they'll find me."
"Then you'd better get out of here."
"That's just what I want to do. How is it to be done? See I have shaved my moustache and altered my clothes."
"What did yer cut them for?"
"I want to be a tramp."
"Let me fix yer up. Just yer stay here," said Bill, disappearing to return a few minutes later with a swag, which he laid on the floor and opened.
"Now then, just you put on these breeches, shirt and boots."
Five minutes later Wyck did not recognise himself, as he looked in the glass.
"Now then, boss, if you're smart, there's a goods train leaves for the West at six, you can catch that."
"Will you take charge of these things?" asked Wyck, strapping up his portmanteau, flurried with the success of his scheme.
"Yes, I'll watch 'em for you."
"Which way do I go?"
"This way," said Bill, leading him to a back entrance, opening on a lane leading to Ruthven Street.
"Here's another for you, Bill, and if you look after my things I'll give you a couple more when I come back," said Wyck, handing him another sovereign.
"Right you are, boss!" and as he closed the door upon him, a grin spread over his face, and he said to himself:
"Two yellow boys for old Joe's swag, eh? Wonder what old Joe'll say when he comes to look for 'em?"
Wyck reached the station safely, and asking how far the train went, was told "Roma."
"First, Rome," said he to the porter, without thinking.
"Roma, you mean, boss. Besides there ain'tno first class on a goods train," said the porter, with a grin.
"You know what I mean," replied Wyck, annoyed.
"All right, here you are, boss," he answered, handing him a ticket, and noting his white hands and the chink of gold in his pocket.
"Hullo, mate! how far are you going?" asked a genuine tramp, as he joined him in the van.
"I beg your pardon," said Wyck, forgetting his character and disgusted with the fellow's familiarity.
"Hoity toity! here's a joke," said the old tramp, much to the porter's amusement, as the train moved slowly off, bearing Wyck to the bush.
The boys were not long in following Wyck out of their train, but as they thought he might get in at Toowoomba they kept a close watch on all passengers travelling North and South. Reg tipped the conductors of both boudoir cars, in order to look through them, and when both trains started again, they felt satisfied he must be still in Toowoomba, unless he had left previous to their arrival. Off they wentto the nearest hotel, and engaged a double-bedded room, in which they locked themselves.
"What's the programme now, Hal?" said Reg.
"If he's here we must nab him. When does the first train start to-morrow?"
"The guide says, 10.30 South, and 1.50 West."
"We'd better get up early and go round the town. You can put on your rig and appear as a stranger looking round, while I'll put on my bush rig and go amongst the swaggies and loafers in the bars. They generally have their eyes open and my idea is that our man will have got hold of one of them for information," said Hal, pulling out his bush togs.
"What shall I do, then?"
"Just knock around and keep your eyes open. He may drive away. Of course he may have got away by now, but it's our only chance."
The next morning by half-past six both had left their room to commence their search. Hal did not need any coaching in the manners or ways of a bushman. He had seen too many of that fraternity during his travels. With a slouch hat, a grisly beard, a crimson shirt, a clean pairof moles with straps fastened below the knees, and a rough pair of boots, he looked the typical bushman in search of work. His hands were stained and looked sunburnt and dirty. He walked with a slow, long stride, first into one public-house, then another, calling invariably for a quid of tobacco in preference to liquor. He struck into conversation with several of his own kidney, and interviewed boots and barmen, without finding out anything of service to him, but still he kept on patiently until he came to the "Royal," where he found an old man sweeping the bar.
"Good-day, boss," said the sweeper.
"Good-day. Have a drink?"
"Don't mind if I do have a pint," said he, readily.
"I'll have rum," said Hal.
After a little desultory conversation and the drinks had disappeared the sweeper, whom the barman addressed as Bill, returned the compliment, and put down a sovereign in payment.
"Hallo, Bill, where did you make this?" called out the barman, considerably astonished to find Bill with a sovereign in his possession.
"Never you mind. Give us a drink and have one yourself," he answered.
The drinks were served and Bill received his change, but still the barman seemed curious.
"Where did you get it, Bill?" he asked again, coming from behind the bar, which gave Hal an opportunity of getting rid of his rum.
"Never mind," said Bill, huffily. "Can't a fellow have a sovereign without you troubling yourself?"
Hal now became decidedly interested, and ordered another round of drinks, this time including the barman. The barman returned the compliment, and Bill, having four pints of beer inside him, began to talk volubly on his strong point—thoroughbreds. Still the barman seemed to think he ought to have a share of that sovereign, and again plied Bill with questions.
"Tell us, Bill. Did you prig it?"
"Prig it! You go to the devil. Come on, mate, let's have another drink," and Bill began to show signs of intoxication.
"Rather, Bill," answered Hal, pretending to be similarly affected. So far, he had succeeded in throwing his liquor down a hole in the floor.
The landlord now appeared on the scene and began to rate Bill for neglecting his work.
"I ain't a-going to chop your wood, I ain't; eh, mate? We ain't a-going to chop wood."
"No, that we ain't," said Hal, with a lurch.
The barman stopped the retort rising to the landlord's lips by whispering, "plenty of stuff," in his ear. Thereupon the latter asked where Mr. Wyckliffe had gone.
"Who?" said Bill. "He's No. 5, ain't he?"
"Yes."
"Well, he give me two bob, and went away early."
"Where did he go to, Bill?" asked the barman.
"Don't know, and don't care. Give us another drink." After which he staggered away, followed by Hal, to the back, in the direction of the stables.
"I'm going to sleep," he said, entering a small house attached to the coach-house, where a lot of bags were strewn about.
Hal staggered after him, and noticed a portmanteau and a rug in the corner. Bill tottered to a rude bunk, on which he fell, and was soon fast asleep and snoring loudly.
Hal hearing him mutter, leant over him and managed to make out the following:
"Get up—six o'clock train West—Go to 'ell—two yellow boys," from which he drew his own deductions. Then he proceeded to examine the portmanteau, which he found unlocked. He could hardly restrain his joy when he found lying underneath the things Wyck's famous ebony stick. It was beautifully mounted and polished and its numerous notches were carefully cut. The temptation was too great to resist and Hal calmly appropriated it, slipping it down the leg of his trousers, then he staggered out of the yard down a lane towards the creek. When he was well out of sight he carefully pulled off his old coat, and took from the pocket a silk coat and pair of overalls. These were quickly donned, the wig and beard disappeared, and he straightened himself out and walked back through the yard into the street, looking like an ordinary tradesman.
Reg was waiting for him when he got back.
"He left by this morning's train for West," said Hal.
"I thought so. I enquired at the station, and they told me a goods train ran twice a weekat that hour, and one had gone this morning, but the man who was on duty then had gone home."
"What's the next train, Reg?"
"1.50."
"Well, we'll go by that. But, come here, I have something to show you," said Hal, leading the way to their room, and producing the stick.
"My God! the stick," cried Reg, and taking it in his hands, looked as if he could have smashed it to a thousand pieces.
Hal left him, thinking it was better for him to be alone with the bitter reflections the sight of the stick had caused.
When the girls left the train they did not go to a hotel, but to a boarding-house near the station. Several rough-looking men were loitering about the door and on the step sat a dirty, fat woman.
"Good-evening, missus. Got any beds?" said Hil.
"Yes, come in, gentlemen. What price do you want. I've got 'em from sixpence to eighteen-pence."
"Let's see the eighteenpennys, then."
"This way," said she, leading them along along passage. "Here you are, a fine double-bed fit for a hemperor," and she flung open a door on which "Privit" was marked.
"Tell you what I'll do. Half-a-crown for the two of yer," said she.
"All right, missus," said Hil, laying down her luggage.
"No, it ain't all right. Not that I doubts you, but you'll have to sugar up afore you touches it."
"Here you are then," answered Hil, handing her the money.
"Want anything to heat!"
"No, thank you. Good-night."
"Suppose you are new chums, ain't you?"
"Yes. Good-night, we're going to bed."
"Well, good-night!" she answered, disappearing reluctantly.
"What a relief," said May, as she took off her large boots and divested herself of her male attire.
"How do you like being a man?"
"Oh, it would be all right when you got used to it, I suppose, but I must say it is a little awkward at first. I'm chafed all over."
"I'm out of practice, too, but on the whole Iconsider we did very well. I don't see that we can do much good by getting up early to-morrow. The first train does not leave before half-past eleven."
"I think eight o'clock time enough," said May, who was completely tired out, although she would not give in.
"Well, we'll have a well-earned rest," said Hil, turning in alongside her friend.
"Do you gentlemen want breakfast?" said a voice at the door, the next morning.
"What's the time?"
"Past eight o'clock."
"All right. We'll be out in a few minutes."
When they appeared breakfast was in full swing, and a large proportion of the men round the table wore the railway uniform. As they entered, Hil heard one of them say:
"He was the greatest card I ever saw in all my life."
"Who's that, Joe?" asked another.
"Why that cove as went by the six goods. He was wearing togs that did not belong to him, and if I don't mistake he had old Bill Adams's hat on."
"What did he do, Joe?"
"Do," said Joe, laughing. "He comes to the office in a fluster and says: 'First, Rome.' I says: 'There ain't no first Rome, Roma you mean.' 'You know what I want,' says he, and when he took his change I noticed his hands was snowy white: he had a ring on and I could hear the gold chinking in his pocket."
"What's his name?" asked the landlady.
"I don't know, but I'm going up to the 'Royal' to enquire about Bill's hat."
The girls had listened greedily to all this, and after breakfast they disguised themselves further by changing their wigs, in case they should meet the boys, and went on to the "Royal" to hear the name of the passenger to Roma.
"We'll follow by the 1.50," said Hil, when her enquiries were answered.
As the 1.50 train was preparing to start, four men stood round the ticket-office. They were the boys and the girls. The former had chosen clothes similar to those Hal had used with so much success, while the latter assumed a dress that might be worn by anyone without being conspicuous.
There is no country in the world where it is more difficult to judge a person by his dress than Australia. You may sit beside a rough, vulgar-looking fellow, with an old cabbage-tree hat and a dirty pair of moles, with all the appearance of a tramp; yet he may be a squatter, who could write a cheque for twenty thousand. To a casual observer, the boys would easily pass as shearers or men on the look-out for work, and the girls would pass as easily for new chums.There were plenty of both classes scattered over the country, and neither party was likely to attract exceptional attention.
"You can only book to Dalby," said the ticket-clerk. "There has been a break-down beyond that point."
"When?" asked Hal.
"Last night. I fancy it is due to some of the shearers, who are out on strike, so, if you are going for a job, you had better look out and join the union."
"We won't trouble them," answered Hal. "We are going for cattle," and he took two second-class tickets for Dalby.
"Two second, Dalby," said Hil, following close behind him.
As the train started May laughed and said:
"Wonder where the boys are now?"
"Probably in Brisbane still. We ought to have returned good for evil, and wired them where Wyck has gone; but I think they had better find out for themselves, as they fancy themselves so much."
"I wonder what our lady detectives are doing," said Reg to Hal, lighting his pipe.
"In bed, asleep, I suppose, dreaming of Wyck."
"We ought to have wired them at Sydney, and given them a hint."
"No, not at all. It would be ridiculous to think of women in this country. But where's the stick, Reg?"
"It's in my swag. I had to cut it in two, but I reckon now that we have that, we shall soon have the owner, and when we do, God help him."
"Yes, he'll stand in need of all the help he can get," said Hal, looking musingly at Reg's resolute face.
The railway station at Dalby presented an unusually animated appearance on their arrival, for the word had been given that a large number of non-union shearers were coming to take the place of those on strike, and the latter had collected to give the newcomers a warm welcome. As soon as the train stopped a crowd gathered round the carriage in which the boys and the girls travelled.
"Here they are," shouted a burly, red-headed fellow, who appeared to be their leader.
"What's your game, gentlemen?" asked Hal, boldly stepping out, followed by Reg and the girls.
"Are you the black-legs?"
"What do you mean?"
"Are you shearers?"
"No, decidedly not. Why?"
"Because we heard some black-legs were coming. That's all."
Two of the passengers were injudicious enough to say they were shearers, one of them calling out—"I'm a shearer, and I'm going to work, for I've a wife and family to keep. D—n your unions."
With a war-whoop the whole body, headed by the red-headed bully, made for the two men, who, in spite of the presence of six constables, were doomed to be knocked about severely, if not in danger of being killed, when Hil, in an impulsive moment, rushed forward to their rescue.
"Stand aside, you cowards," she called out, producing a revolver. "I shoot the first man that touches them again." Then the crowd fell back for a moment.
"You dirty cowards," said Hal, coming forward with Reg.
"Who the devil are you?" said the red-headed leader.
"I'm a man, and I'll see fair play. What right have you to kick these fellows?"
"You're very plucky, all because your mate has got a shooting-iron."
"I can use my fists, too," said Hil, putting up her revolver and standing forward.
"Here put up your hands," interposed Hal and, pushing Hil aside, gave the fellow one from the shoulder that staggered him.
"A fight, a fight," yelled the crowd. "Go it, stranger."
Hal faced his man squarely and, watching his opportunity, landed him one in the mouth that stretched him flat on his back.
"Any more?" asked Reg, looking round, as if he would like his share. But the crowd had had enough and, as the two men who had been the cause of the row had taken advantage of the fight to slip out of the way, Hal and Reg and the girls got away without further adventure.
They found the town a very small one, which had once, like most inland towns, been in a fairly prosperous condition so long as the railway kept away from it; but the advent of the iron horse had caused it to fall, like scores of similartowns, into a deserted condition. Luck favoured the boys, for on calling at Condon's Hotel they got into conversation with an old swag man.
"Seen any strangers about to-day?" asked Hal.
"What do you call strangers—men like yourself?"
"Yes."
"Well, I see one come with Joe Brown by the train this morning."
"What sort of a looking fellow was he?"
"He had old togs on, but didn't seem used to them."
"Where is he now?"
"Don't know. Last I see of him he was in a buggy."
"What was he doing?"
"Why, driving away, of course. Seemed in a blooming hurry, too, and looked as if he was going a journey by the stuff he had aboard."
"Where did he get the turn-out?"
"Don't know; but this is awfully dry work, boss."
"Sing out then: a pint, eh?"
"Rather, boss."
Ten minutes later, the boys were in conversation with the proprietor of the livery stables, if they could be called such.
"Well, all I know is that he paid me thirty pound down for the whole turn-out, and I see him driving away with an old shearer, named Joe Brown," said the owner, in answer to their questions.
"Which direction did they take?"
"Looked as if they were going to follow the river: in fact, they'll have to, as water is scarce."
"We want to overtake these fellows. Have you another trap?"
"Not to sell. I've got a fine buggy and pair here. They could prick spots off the others. I want a pound a-day for them."
"Then hitch them up as fast as you like, and put a good stock of feed in, while we go and get ready."
"By George, this is good business," said the man to himself, as he hastened away to get the horses ready.
The boys hurried off to one of the stores, and purchased a stock of provisions, a small tent, and some cooking utensils. An hour later, theydrove away in pursuit of the fugitives, following the road along the creek.
The girls had been unsuccessful in finding out anything. As they walked along the street, they noticed a trap with two men in it drive out of a yard.
"I wonder where they are off to," said May.
"Some squatter's turn-out, I suppose. Let's go to the yard they came out of," answered Hil.
"They've gone after a gent who started this morning," said the proprietor, in answer to her enquiry.
"Which way are they making?"
"Along the river, I think."
"I suppose you have not another trap and horses ready."
"No, sir. I've only got the two, and one of them I sold this morning to the first gent."
"What's on there?" asked Hil, pointing to a crowd round some stockyards.
"Auction, that's all."
"Are they selling horses?"
"Yes, some scrubbers, I think."
"Come on, May. Let's have a look: we can do with a pair of saddle-horses, for we mustfollow on horseback, or we shall never overtake them."
"I'm agreeable."
"That's not a bad hack. Rather weak in the fore shoulder. Thirty bob, eh?" "Well it's cheap at that," said Hil, examining the horse. "Now this looks better. Come closer, I like the look of this one," and strolling into the yard she opened the horse's mouth.
"I'll give you a couple of notes," she said to the auctioneer.
"Two pounds, two-ten, three, three-five, three-ten. It's gone. You've got a bargain, young fellow. What name?" sang out the auctioneer.
"Cash," said she, promptly planking down the money.
Several other lots had been disposed of, but nothing seemed to suit Hil, whose practised eye could pick out a blemish at a glance.
"Now then, stand aside. Look out. Hallo there, look out," shouted several of the runners-in, as they drove an untameable colt into the yard.
"Look out, young fellow. Come out," shouted the auctioneer to Hil, who was quietly leaning against the post fixed in the centre of the ring."Look out," said he again, as the colt ran open-mouthed at her, but a smack on the nose sent him back, and letting fly with his heels, just missed her, as she stepped quietly on one side.
"Now then," said the auctioneer, with a wink at the crowd, "the breeding of this horse is well-known. What shall we say for her? A tenner? Well then, a fiver."
"Six," said Hil.
"Six, six-ten, seven, seven. Gentlemen, is there no advance? Seven once, seven twice. It's yours, young fellow. What name?"
"Cash," answered Hil, calmly paying up.
"And now, young fellow, that you have got him, might I ask what you are going to do with him," said the auctioneer in a jocular manner, which the crowd greeted with roars of laughter.
"I'll ride him, I suppose," said Hil, quietly.
"You're not the man," answered the auctioneer, emphatically. "I'll bet you a fiver you're not game to ride him now."
"It's a wager. Where's a saddle?" said she.
"I'll find a saddle quick enough," said the auctioneer, smiling; then he added to the crowd, "Gentlemen, we'll adjourn the sale till this youngster mounts the colt."
"Right you are! Two to one he don't stick," shouted an excited farmer by the auctioneer's side.
"I'll take it," said May, handing a fiver to the auctioneer, which the farmer reluctantly covered.
A saddle and bridle were brought and carefully examined by Hil. When she had satisfied herself they were strong enough, the colt was driven into a race, and after some delay the bridle was fixed on him. It was a considerable time before the saddle could be got on and girthed to Hil's satisfaction. Then the colt was led out.
The excitement now was intense, more especially as the colt began to lash out furiously, to buck and pig in his efforts to dislodge the saddle, for although dozens had tried to ride him he had as yet come off best, and was known as incurable to the country round.
One man held the reins and tried to keep him still, as he danced about, while Hil, with one hand gripping the colt's ear and the other on the saddle, stood watching her chance. The instant the slightest weight was put on the saddle, up went the horse in the air. Hil leaned heavily on him several times, and then stood aside till the colt began to become cunning andstood perfectly still the next time she leant upon the saddle. Hil seeing her chance leapt into the saddle, grasped the reins, and fixed her feet in the stirrup-irons in an instant. The colt was looked upon as a champion bucker, and he deserved the honour, for rising into the air with all four feet off the ground, he gave a twitch that must have dislodged most riders, but Hil and the horse were one. After bucking and pigging all he knew, without succeeding in upsetting his rider, the wary animal tried a new dodge. He reared suddenly and fell back, trying to crush his rider, but Hil was on the alert, for few knew the ways of buck-jumpers more thoroughly and, as the horse came down, she coolly stepped on one side, and was on his back again the instant he had recovered himself. That was too much for the obstreperous animal; he knew he was conquered and gave in to the inevitable, allowing himself to be handled and put through his paces with suspicious docility.
"I'll trouble you for the stakes," said May, pocketing fifteen pounds.
"I want five from you, sir," said Hil. "Thank you. Now then, boys, if you will come over to the pub we'll blue this fiver."
They adjourned to the public-house and had drinks round. Hil, turning to the auctioneer, said:
"I'll tell you what it is, boss. I'd not take ten times what I gave for him. Mark my word, you'll hear something of that colt some day."
"Well, I don't mind losing my fiver at any rate, for you certainly have earned it. That colt has been looked on as a terror to the neighbourhood. Nobody would have him at a gift, and it was only because you looked like a new chum that I ran him in."
"I'm very glad you did. Can you fix us up with a couple of saddles and bridles."
"Certainly. Come on over here."
Saddles and bridles were bought and put on their new purchases. Then the girls rode their horses to the hotel stables, where they were putting up. They groomed and fed them themselves, and went off to purchase a stock of provisions and a small tent. These were all rolled in a blanket and fixed to the front of each saddle; quart pots were slung at the side, and they were at last ready to start.
"I'll christen my colt Wyck," said Hil, as they turned in for the night.
"And mine shall be Liffe," said May.
Daylight the next morning saw them on the track of the two conveyances.
When Hil mounted her colt the next morning, that fractious animal could not resist having another set-to, just to convince himself that his master was really on his back. Hil was quite agreeable and having satisfied the creature on that point, she and May started at a brisk canter along the road, following the wheel-tracks, which were still clearly defined. Hil was not disappointed in either purchase, for both horses settled down to their work admirably, and by eight o'clock they considered they were twenty miles away from Dalby. They therefore pulled up at Jimbour Creek, dismounted, hobbled their horses, and let them roam for a feed, while they prepared breakfast. Both had excellent appetites after their ride, and did full justice to the meal their own skill had prepared. During therepast, they heard horses' hoofs approaching, and shortly were joined by two young men of the bush type, probably shearers.
"Good-day, mates," called out one, as they came near.
"Good-day to you," said May. "Have a cup of tea, the water's just boiling."
It sounded more like an invitation in a lady's boudoir than from the bush, but putting them down as new chums, the pair dismounted and accepted the offer.
"Where are you young fellows making for?" asked one.
"Going along the river. Did you come that way?"
"Yes, we've come in from Condamine station."
"See anything of a buggy along the road?"
"Well, I'm blowed! Yes, we did. Why?"
"We are trying to catch up to one," said Hil.
"We camped alongside two fellows with a buggy last night, and they told me they were after two other fellows, and now I suppose you fellows are after them?" said the stranger, with a laugh.
"Are there two buggies ahead?"
"Yes, one is broken-down at Campbell Camp, and the other ought to be there by this time. Are you policemen after them?"
"No, not at all. They are friends. We have missed one another. That's all."
"Well, come along, matey," said the younger of the two to his companion. "Good-day to you, and much obliged," and they mounted and disappeared.
"Time to get on, Hil," said May.
"Yes, I think so," and a few minutes later they were on the track of the fugitives once more.
The roads now became rough and hilly, and the travelling much slower. About three o'clock they reached Campbell Camp crossing, and there they found the buggy, broken-down as described. An old man was camped close by, and seemed in possession of the turn-out, as he had the horses tied up close at hand.
"Had a smash?" asked Hil, greeting him.
"Yes, axle bent," said he, coming towards them.
"Seen anything of another buggy go by?"
"Yes, one drove across to the station this morning, with two men in it. They drove a pair of bay horses."
"We may as well camp here for the night," said Hil, "the feed seems pretty good, and water's scarce ahead they tell us."
"Are you coves going to camp here?" asked the man.
"Yes, we are thinking of doing so."
"That's the style, it's a bit lonely here all day."
"Who's trap is that?"
"It belongs to a young chap going to Chinchilla. He's gone on ahead."
"What sort of a fellow is he?" asked Hil.
"A youngish chap. Seemed like as he was in trouble, for he sweared a lot when we broke down."
"What's your name?"
"Joe Brown."
"What time did he start from here?"
"About eight o'clock this morning: but what do you want to know for?"
"Oh! nothing, he's a friend of ours."
"That's just what them other coves saidwho drove up in a buggy, only they was more inquisitive."
"Could they be the boys?" said Hil, turning to May.
"No, impossible; and yet they may be, like us, in disguise for all we know."
"Which way did they go?" said she, turning to the man.
"They went to Chinchilla after him."
"Oh, well, I expect we shall catch up with them to-morrow. Come along, May, let's get our tent rigged up."
While they were fixing their tent, a hawker's van, drawn by four horses, drove up. Beside the driver sat a man and a boy. Pulling up alongside the creek, the driver walked towards Joe Brown.
"Are you Joe Brown?" he called out in a loud voice.
"Yes, that's me. What's up?"
"Well, I met a young chap going to Chinchilla this morning, and he told me to try and straighten the axle of his buggy, and take it back to Dalby."
"I've got no objection," said Joe, looking significantly at the other man in the cart.
"Then come and give us a hand to get my team out, and we'll set to work at once," said the hawker, whose name was Abraham Abrahams.
The girls having rigged their tent and seen to the horses, strolled down to the hawker's trap, and volunteered their assistance.
"Quite welcome, chaps," said Abrahams.
"Come on, Tom, fly round now, you're going to sleep," said he to the man with him, who was trying to unharness a horse, but did not know how to set about it.
"Let me help you," said Hil, pushing him aside and taking the harness off.
When everything was done to the satisfaction of the hawker, all hands were directed to the buggy. While they were engaged on that two more fellows appeared on the scene. They carried their swags on their shoulders.
"Hallo there! What's the game?" said one, as he came up to them.
"A bit of a smash, that's all," answered Abrahams. "Now then, twist her a bit more. Hang on, let's look now," he sang out, as he directed the operations.
"Yes, that'll do now," he added. "Let's getit back in its place before dark, so we can have an early start."
The axle replaced, all adjourned to their respective tents to prepare a meal. The two latest arrivals chose a camping-ground some twenty yards from that the girls had selected, and soon had a fire lit and their billy boiling.
When all had finished their meal Abrahams suggested they should make a big fire and sit round it and spin yarns. The idea was readily taken up, and a huge log was selected, round which a rope was fixed and harnessed to one of the horses, when it was at once dragged into the required position. Some light wood was gathered, and soon the log was well ablaze, and they disposed themselves in a circle round it. Old Joe was inclined to be a little bit selfish and directly the log was in position, he took a seat on one end of it, and obstinately resisted all efforts to dislodge him. Now it happened that that log had been the home of a large swarm of the ants known as "green-heads." These, as most campers-out know, can sting pretty sharply, and while Joe was disputing his right to the seat, they were gradually being driven by the smoke to theother end of the log. They found Joe's coat-tails an excellent bridge, and swarmed up them. Presently Joe began to feel uncomfortable; then he gave a jump, and finally yelled with agony, and starting up began to fling his clothes off as quickly as possible. The girls found it necessary to retire to their tent to fetch something they had forgotten.
"How very awkward if they had attacked us," said May.
"Very," answered Hilda, laughing heartily at May's look of alarm.
They gave Joe time to rid himself of the pests, and returned to the fire. Nobody now disputed the right of ownership to the log, for it was fairly alive with ants. Joe was sore all over and in a bad temper, until some one offered to give him some whiskey to rub in his wounds. Joe bargained he should drink it in preference, which he did and was soon restored to good-humour.
For the second time the five people who are on the search for one another found themselves in each others' company and were unaware that this was the case. The two men with swags were the boys. They had left their trap in charge of a man camped half-a-mile down thecreek, and disguising themselves a second time, in order not to be recognized by Joe, appeared as tramps. They had started for Chinchilla, but missed the road and had not found out their error until they had gone some fourteen miles out of their way, when they met a tramp who told them. Picking him up, they returned to the creek, hoping Wyck might have come back for his buggy.
When Wyck's buggy broke down he was in a terrible rage, but he did not take long to form fresh plans and, having told Joe enough to put him on his guard, he went on his way, but not to Chinchilla. When the boys drove up, he was hidden in a hollow log about twenty paces away, where he could see and hear all that took place. Joe was up to snuff and sent the boys on what he considered a wild-goose chase. When he had let the boys get fairly out of sight Wyck walked along the road in the hope of coming across a Jew hawker, whom a horseman had told him was travelling that route. Nor was he disappointed, for Abrahams came in sight. A five-pound note was exchanged, and Abrahams agreed to take him and his buggy back to Dalby. Wyck then got up alongsidethe driver. Although he was very uneasy, he had no idea his enemies were so close to him, neither had Hil any conception who the man was she had shewn how to unharness the horses. Wyck had palled up with Joe in the train, and retained him to shew the way. Joe in return had improved Wyck's get-up, so that he now looked quite the bushman, as he lounged by the fire.
In the interval between the yarns all had been spinning, Wyck said to Abrahams, with a wink:
"Wonder how that poor devil is getting on?"
"Which, that fellow who owned the trap?"
"Yes. He'll never see Chinchilla to-night, if I'm not mistaken."
"Where did you meet him?" asked Joe of Abrahams.
"About two miles from here."
"What was he like?"
"Tall, dark, and about twenty-eight," put in Wyck.
"That's my boss," said Joe, taking the cue. "I tried to persuade him from going, but he would go."
"Well, he asked me to take his buggy toDalby for him, and I am going to do it," said Abrahams.
"Quite right!" said Wyck.
Four people greedily took in this conversation, and made their plans accordingly. As the fire died low, first one, and then another went to their tents, and the camp was deserted. Wyck slept in the van with Abrahams.